


Refine

by FleetingImage



Category: Prospect (2018)
Genre: Alien Worlds, Canon-Typical Violence, Sequel, Some Cursing, expansion of existing universe, new adventures await, no planned romantic relationships, some might develop though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-29
Updated: 2021-02-09
Packaged: 2021-03-15 06:48:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,141
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29060052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FleetingImage/pseuds/FleetingImage
Summary: Her docking request to the freighter had caused quite the commotion. Especially after announcing the presence of her severely wounded partner. Now Cee was frantically leafing through the flight manual, searching, searching - ah! Docking mechanism, autopilot, clamps. There it was. Theoretically easy. Theoretically.Her eyes skimmed the pages for any safety measures, any warnings, anything that might just be outright disastrous if disregarded.Then she set to work.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> In all honesty? I have no idea where I'm headed with this story. But after watching 'Prospect' and diving headfirst into the universe I glimpsed, I just had to pour my rampant imagination into written words. I love the story. I adore the characters and am captivated by their dialogue, their natural interactions. I'm fascinated by the visual beauty and captivating soundtrack. So please don't expect me to reach the high standard set by this one amazing movie. But I sure will try.
> 
> All borrowed characters, the entire world and everything taken from it and its story, belongs to their rightful owners. I will just merge in my own weird original ideas and try to expand this stunning universe. The story will develop as I write.
> 
> Please enjoy reading what I've produced so far and feel free to comment and throw in your own opinion concerning in whichever direction you'd like to see this story proceed.  
> Any word of inspiration, constructive criticism or praise will be appreciated greatly.
> 
> (None of my writing is beta'd. Feel free to point out any error you spot, plotwise or other. English not being my native language has me struggling with my words sometimes.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Short OC introduction, because it was the easiest way to weave them in through a quick glance back.
> 
> Following chapters will focus on Cee and her struggles while Ezra recovers.

Getting accidentally hurt while working was bad.

Getting accidentally hurt while working and missing an entire harvest and therefore your fair share of the profits was decidedly worse. 

But it didn't stop at that. No, why would it ever?

As if slow recovery had not been trying enough, spent alone in the sterile atmosphere on the freighter's lonely MedBay, another horrible surprise had been in for Ari, former mechanic of a ‘proud _Testin Screamer_ ’.

She had barely reached the Core, central main port of circling space liners, when her crew - the same people that had rid themselves of the nuisance of caring for her in their own medical wing - had deemed it necessary to finally contact their lone mechanic. Apparently the ship had taken some damage along the way. As had its crew.

Not even the promise of her remarkable share of the profitable haul was enough to soothe the hurt of losing friends - especially if not present when it had happened. An accident while harvesting, the newly declared captain, List, had claimed, his voice mockingly sorrowful as he ticked off one dead colleague after the other on his fingers over the vis-comm.

Ari had been strong then, carefully listening, nearly choking at the mention of her closest companions among the lost. Gone. Just like that. And she had been peacefully sleeping through it all, nursing her own wounds. And what had she gotten for goodbye before the ship - her _home_ \- had drifted off and away from the freighter? A fist bump accompanied by a drawled “Rest an’ get well. Until we meet again.”

 _Meet again_ , she thought in bitter disappointment. _Liar._

Maybe it was that anger that led her to an unexpected decision. Startling to herself. And even more so to the remaining crew in desperate need of their lone and trusted mechanic.

Fuck profit. Fuck the promised points. What good were they now, that her sole goal had died along her friends on a far-off fucking fringe moon.

The least she could do was bid them a proper farewell.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> See Prologue

Her docking request to the freighter had caused quite the commotion. Especially after announcing the presence of her severely wounded partner. Now Cee was frantically leafing through the flight manual, searching, searching - ah! Docking mechanism, autopilot, clamps. There it was. Theoretically easy. _Theoretically_.

Her eyes skimmed the pages for any safety measures, any warnings, anything that might just be outright disastrous if disregarded.

Then she set to work. Turning knobs and hitting switches in quick succession, she led the tiny _Leaper_ into a smooth maneuver, turning ever so slightly in computer processed navigation to fit the freighter's precise angle.

Just inches, seconds, from rescue, a feeble whimper to her left caught her attention. Barely a whimper it was. More of a rattling breath. Her rigid back tensed further.

"Just a little longer," she promised, too afraid to turn her head and actually _look_ at the rapidly paling face beside her. She hadn't turned back and risked her own escape for nothing! No, that was unacceptable. She wouldn't have it. Holding her breath, she stared down at the single tiny, flickering screen of importance.

A clank of metal on metal echoed through their craft, accompanied by the silent hiss of compressed air to fill the short docking bridge. A telltale sign of success. Tears sprang free against her will, stubbornly streaking down her cheeks as she punched in the final commands and released the locked door.

Safe. _Safe_ at last.

A wave of joy crashed over her, as she flicked the buckle of her seat open and away and slid to the ground on wobbly legs. She barely registered the head poking in, followed by the rest of a person - a medic, her muddled brain supplied - before she was ushered out and into the docking arm of the freighter. Outside she was greeted by several stranger’s faces, handed from one to the other, being checked over quickly as she went. Satisfied that there seemed to be no apparent damage to her body, she was urged to sit on a stretcher and watched in a swirl of relief and growing exhaustion as curious glances met the scene from several open docking hatches along the corridor. All the while helpers busied themselves hefting the limp body of Ezra out of the _Leaper_ and onto a second stretcher. Unconscious, she gleaned from crowed commands, but _alive_.

Before she could consider complaining, she was rushed along to, what she assumed, was the freighter’s MedWing. Welcomed by the sterile reek of antiseptic and rubber gloves, Cee surrendered herself to another quick superficial check-up. Despite knowing that she wasn’t hurt, aside from the many scratches and bruises scattered mainly across her knees and elbows, it was somehow comforting to learn that she was indeed fine. At least physically.

But she wasn’t released of the medic’s attention just yet. The questions quickly shifted from her own well-being to that of her companion. Not that she could offer much help in that department. Except for his first name and the cause of his injuries, there was not much she could constribute. So, as best as she could, she recounted the course of events as detailed as she deemed necessary.

And out on the corridor she was again, almost as quickly as she had been ushered inside. No family relation to the wounded, no injury of her own, ‘get out of the way’ it was.

She blinked, once, twice – and finally turned to stare at the door leading back into the medical bay. Being generally healthy was fine and good and space in there was limited. But where the hell was she meant to go? What-

“You forgot something.”

The stranger's voice made her flip back to the hall, instinctively falling into a poor resemblance of a defensive stance.

“No worries, girlie, I mean no harm,” the woman quipped, standing just a few feet away, her posture relaxed, one hand outstretched. In it – a key.

Cee stared at it, stared at her, until it clicked. The _Leaper_ ’s key. In her hurry she had left it where it was, stuck in the console.

“I took the liberty to lock it up for you. Pilferin’s gotten worse lately. Would be a shame if somebody went rummagin' through your stuff, don’t ya think?”

The stranger tilted her head, a friendly but wan smile spreading across her freckled face.

“That isn’t mine,” Cee answered truthfully, her instinct dictating to end the conversation as quickly as possible.

“Oh? You piloted it, you docked it. Clearly yours. Want me to hold on to it for ya?”

“No!” She blurted out, thinking better of her intuitive answer. If you looked at it that way, the woman had a point. Struggling to keep her voice even, Cee reached out her own hand.

“Give it to me. I’ll take it.”

The woman’s smile stretched a little wider for a brief moment as she took a step closer and dropped the key into her palm.

“There you go. Better to have a place to stay at, ain’t it? Though you’d be welcome with me.”

Stuffing the precious metal tube into a pouch on her belt, Cee’s eyes swiftly flicked back up to regard the stranger with a wary gaze. If she noticed, she did not bother. Instead, she stuffed her hand back into the pocket of the oil-speckled overall covering her from ankle to collar and sported a grin.

“As I said, I mean no harm, though I understand that might not be the easiest thing to believe in your current position. But I do owe you some thanks.”

Thanks? Cee took a cautious step back. That woman had been in the _Leaper_ , allegedly to save her some trouble. Maybe she had found something in there. After all, she had no idea whatever exactly the mercs had stored in their craft. Was it weapons? Treasure? Food? Their escape in the nick of time had left very little opportunity to take stock of what cluttered the cockpit and storage room.

Obviously sensing her suspicions, the woman tilted her head with an expression that didn’t match her former façade of joviality. Was it exhaustion? Sorrow? It was hard to tell on a face so unfamiliar.

“I didn’t touch anything, don’t ya worry,” she assured nevertheless friendly and prattled on. “You just happened to unexpectedly bring back a very dear friend of mine. I’m grateful for that. My name’s Ari by the way. And if there’s anything I can help you with, don’ be shy to ask. You’ll find me in D-407. Just give a holler if you need me.”

With that she gave a little salute and strolled off, straight into the MedBay, carelessly shrugging off the nurse’s persistent protest as she let herself in.

The door shut and Cee remained rooted to where she stood, thoroughly surprised by that tiny new revelation. A friend of Ezra’s? Weird apparently attracts weirder in this case. With a shake of her head, she cleared her mind. D-407. She engraved the address into her head and slowly turned to find her way back to her newly acquired _Leaper_. A ship. _Her_ ship? She was _alive_ unlike her-

Gulping back a sudden sob, she broke into a run.

Only as she had reached her destination, her breathing rapid and flat, she had calmed enough to shove the emotion aside. She wouldn’t break now. She had to make a plan how to move on. The freighter was on its last line back to the Core. From there she’d have to find her own way. She could- Well, yes, she could what excactly?

A bout of panic settled deep in her guts.

Alright, she had to clear her head, calm herself and take stock of what she had. Again. Why did she wind up rummaging through a ship _again?_ Shaking off the sinking feeling, Cee fumbled for the key in her pocket and jammed it into the hatch with trembling fingers.

She had made it here, in the nick of time, but safe. And she would not falter now. Taking stock, it was. As soon as she knew what was in her possession, she would be able to put it to use. At least that was what she thought.

Inside the _Leaper_ she was greeted with the rank scent of dried blood, mingling horribly with sweat, dirt and a general odor of ‘old and broken’. It went along hand in hand with the sight that presented itself to her. The co-pilots seat was turned backwards, the leather and fabric stained in hues of deep red and brown all over its lower left. The blood itself did not rattle her. The close call did.

Calming her picked up heartrate with a few forced, even breaths, she turned her focus elsewhere. Now that time was a seemingly endless resource, her eyes wandered along the floor and walls. A few intriguing drawers lined the circumference of the nearly round room. Otherwise, the cockpit was fairly empty, much to her distress. Also a rental? Possible. Or a throwaway scrap ship serving just one more planetary touchdown? Maybe decorating or _owning_ stuff had just not been their thing. She wouldn’t give up hope until she had searched every nook and cranny for every bit salvageable. Falling to her knees, she set to work and brought to light what waited to be uncovered.

When she finally slammed the last compartment shut, her gaze fell upon her meager yield.

Two double edged daggers, a few tools, half a package of stimu-gum along with some empty silver wrappers. A few rations of freeze-dried vegetable gloop and a case that stubbornly would not open, no matter which found tool she used against its sturdy lock. With a grunt of frustration, she sat back on her haunches and glared at the infuriating thing. As she did, realization slowly dawned on her.

Whatever precious or useful thing the _Leaper_ might have transported once, was still down on the Green Moon, yet to be reloaded to add as little weight as possible, strewn across its surface like the crew that had owned it. What was she left with? Everything that had _not_ been of any weight, use or worth _at all._

In her growing agitation she snatched a handsaw from the grating and hurled it against the opposite wall. With a jarring _clank_ it hit the metal and dropped down undamaged. A scream of frustration ripped from her throat as she fisted both hands into her hair and curled into herself.

What was she supposed to do now? Barely any food, nothing to sell, nothing to use. What should she –

Dock 407! _Give a holler_ , the stranger had said. She’d do just that. Not that there was any other choice. She scrambled up from the ground and pulled herself together. She wouldn’t give up yet. Not after fighting herself through a hostile jungle all the way to come back here.

Determined to make this work, she clambered out through the hatch and locked it tight.

Finding D-407 was her next aim. One little step at a time. She’d see where to go from there once she reached it.

*

That sole golden lock. How long had it been? How long since she’d last spotted it appear around the corner, as per usual accompanied by an impish grin, a brand new bad idea in tow? None of the latter was visible now. Instead of relentless chatter, an eerie silence lingered heavily as Ari watched her friend being carted away and into a sterile room to be worked on.

“Step aside, please, we need the space”, a nurse admonished, and she found herself obey for the first time since she entered the MedWing. There was nothing she could do now but wait. Having handed her contact information to a passing nurse, she’d at least be informed if he woke up. Or… well, not.

An option she was well aware of, even though she was in no way ready to accept it. _Again_.

She had gone from denial to acceptance once, the entire exhausting way. Then, all of a sudden, just hours before her final goodbye to the damned Green Moon and the friends and colleagues it had taken so greedily, one had somehow made his absolute miraculous return. She was in no way ready to hand him back to death just yet. Having no say in the matter bordered on torture.

Tearing her gaze away from the door, Ari heaved a tired sigh. Except for blocking the entryways, her presence made no significant difference. Even though it went against her gut instincts, she turned and slowly wound her way back and out of the cramped medical facility. They sure didn’t have much room for major trauma cases here. About time this faulty design of a freighter was put out of business.

Back on the corridor, she paused, stuffed both her hands into her pockets and pondered her options. She could loiter in the common cantina for a bit, take her mind off things. But then she risked missing news of either kind. Be it the girl beseeching her for help or a comm call from the MedWing. That in mind, she meandered back through the halls to her dock. Off to the right, in one of the older, cheaper arms, her rented pod awaited. Worth it, she decided, even though it had cost her points, job and home. But what was ‘home’ without the people that breathed life into it? List could have the _Screamer_ all to his despicable insatiable self. A grim expression etched itself into her face. _An accident,_ the man had claimed. It had been hard to believe then. It was absolutely ridiculous now. If that son of a cackling canal rat ever crossed her path again, she’d show him _‘an accident’._

Shaking her head in frustration, Ari punched her code into the pad to unlock her pod and stepped into her own private little space.

*

A few uneven breaths passed as Cee waited, staring at the bold and partly peeled off number 407 up on the closed hatch ahead - until the door creaked open to reveal the woman from earlier. The sorrowful expression adorning her face was replaced by a brilliant grin the instant her eyes set on the girl in the hallway.

“There you are!”, she cheered. “I wondered how long it’d take you to wash up on my doorstep. Come on in!”

Stepping aside, she made room for Cee to enter, urging her on with a flick of her hand. Hesitantly Cee took a step closer, regarded her once more. All of a sudden she wasn’t sure if it had been the right decision to come here. She barely knew a thing about either her, or Ezra. Still… those two were the only ones that she could turn to now. And one being locked up in the MedWing, she was left with no choice. One step after another, she dared slipping into the pod – just to be greeted by utter _chaos_. Wide-eyed she took in the cockpit’s inside, cluttered from left to right in – yeah, in what exactly?

“Eh, ya don’t mind the… disorder, do ya? Wasn’t expecting any guests until you chimed in this morning. I-”

She broke off, shuffled around, clearing a space to sit, from what seemed to be mostly bits and bobs of metal, tools and oily rags. Muttering under her breath, she hefted a huge box of wires and cord and shoved it into another edge of the room. Pointing one outstretched hand onto the now mostly empty space, she ran the back of her other across her forehead, seemingly unaware of the dark streak it left in the process.

“I came back ‘ere to say goodbye, actually.”

Her grin faltered a little at the admission.

“Goodbye?”, echoed Cee, as she carefully stepped through the remaining strewn about tools to reach the space she indicated.

“Yeah. To friends lost in a battle I wasn’t permitted to meddle in. You bringing one back from the dead sure was a surprise I couldn’t have foreseen. That’s basically the reason I did not get to make a clean sweep ‘round ‘ere. You hungry?”

The question caught her off-guard and Cee paused her visual exploration of the pod. Hungry? Stars, yes, she was hungry! The last bit she had eaten had been that old gritty rations bar back in Ezra’s tent. She nodded eagerly, her empty stomach rumbling silently as if to underline the importance of her realization.

The woman’s face lit up knowingly.

“Gimme a sec’”, she announced and scurried off into an adjacent compartment of the tiny vessel. Cee waited patiently, listened to her – Ari, if she remembered correctly – tinkering around through the thin wall separating them. She used the time to examine her surroundings a little closer. A few of the tools she recognized. Basic stuff. Wrenches, a smoldering iron, laser marker. And was that a taken apart radio? Ari was a mechanic, apparently. Considering the mess, a mechanic with heart and soul. Or just disorganized.

Her eyes flickered back up to the hatch, as her host returned from what she supposed, was her living space. In her hands she carried a large bowl, filled to the brim with – cornflakes? A giddy joy spread through her stomach at the prospect of _real_ food. No mushy instant paste. No rations bar. Cornflakes! It must have shown on her face, apparently, because Ari chuckled as she handed her the treat.

“Go ahead, dig in. You must be starved. You sure look like it.”

She wouldn’t be told that twice. Readily accepting the proffered bowl, she grabbed the spoon and shoveled the first bite of crunchy, sweet goodness into her mouth. Closing her eyes, she silently reveled in the long-forgotten taste. Fluttering her eyes open again, she set to fill her stomach.

Ari had settled beside her again, now an adjustable wrench in her hand to fiddle with while she waited for her guest to finish her hasty meal.

“Oy, I won’t take it back”, she quipped, “No need to rush like that. You’ll choke.”

Sensing a truth to her words, Cee forced herself to slow down, enjoy what she had been given. Munching on yet another spoonful of her meal, she took the time to finally take the other woman in detail. Prominent freckles went along with copper colored hair, pulled up into a messy bun at the back of her head. A stark contrast to her fair skin. If asked, Cee would estimate her to be in her thirties, fine lines of past laughter around her eyes giving her age away.

She quickly lowered her own back to her bowl as said eyes turned to meet hers. A mossy green, she had spotted. Overall, the woman made a friendly appearance with her quirky nature and constant smile. But _appearances are deceitful_ , she reminded herself. A lesson she had learned the hard way early on.

No longer able to stand the silence and that one nagging question in her head, ever present since her ‘partner’ had been whisked away and off into the unknown of medical treatment, Cee rested her spoon on the edge of her bowl and spoke up.

“How’s he doing?”

Pausing her nervous twiddling, Ari contemplated the question for a moment, clearly picking her words with care. Whether that was for her own sake or for Cee’s, she couldn’t tell.

“Doin’ good, considerin’ his general fettle. They wouldn’t tell me much besides _‘Please leave, you can’t be here’”_ – Cee twitched at her feisty imitation of thoroughly annoyed medical staff – “but I picked up this and that. ‘s far as I can tell, he’s gonna be okay. Ez’ always been a fighter. You could probably felt a whole sweater with the dust from his lungs and the the stab wound’ll cause him some grief. But he’ll make it.”

“What about-“

“The arm?”

Ari shrugged, clearly displeased to breach that topic for a reason unknown to Cee.

“I dunno. Won’t grow back I guess. Knowing him, he’ll rant and thunder for a while until he gets used to it. Sucks to lose your dominant hand, but he’ll live. Quite literally, thank the heavens.” 

Cee sucked in a breath, nodded, let the thought settle. For a moment she tried to imagine it, staring down at the spoon in her right. She banished the thought as quick as it came. She fiercely refused to feel guilty for it. Not after what _he_ had done. Her father had been greedy, yes. A selfish, reckless good-for-nothing one might say, dragging her along into his adventures and delirious dreams of incredible riches. But he still had been her father, as protective as he had been naïve. Biting her cheek to keep another rush of fresh hot stubborn tears at bay, she frowned. The expression did not go unnoticed by her attentive host.

Setting the tool in her hands aside, Ari let both of her elbows drop to her thighs and propped her chin up on folded hands.

“You wanna talk about what happened down there?”, she asked tentatively.

Fiercely Cee shook her head. No way, she wouldn’t. She couldn’t. The bless of forgetting was what she wished for. Not talking. Not-

A strangled sob escaped her, and she bit her lip, desperate to quench the sizzling fuse to a powder keg of compressed emotion. The necessity to analyze and plan had kept her head clear down on the Green. Now, there was nothing to keep her from thinking. To silence the _what if’s._ No adrenaline to overpower regret and sorrow. Rapidly loosing her battle, a few stray tears forced their way out and with them, her resolve crumbled to debris. Choking out a few jumbled syllables, she began wailing in earnest and with all the fury and misery, she spilled the entire story in one long muddled mess of words.

*

He blinked one leaden lid open and let it drop closed again as the attempt proved itself futile against the strong current mercilessly pulling him back into warm, tingly blackness…


	3. Chapter 3

His mind struggled to make sense of the strange floaty sensation in his head and limbs.

He dared another try opening his eyes, mustering his entire strength to keep the erratic flutters of his lids at bay. Slowly, at a snail’s pace, the world around him swam back into focus – and out again.

He registered his own voice, groaning, his tongue sitting heavy and somehow weird in his own dry mouth. A cough clawed its way up his throat and shook his frame violently. While being a generally unwelcome sensation, the sudden lurch did wonders to his muddled mind, waking him further and alerting him to a very unfamiliar environment.

Chipped greenish walls came into view, a stark contrast to the muddy red tent plane he’d become so accustomed to. Far off voices exchanged a few words, incomprehensible to him.

A flicker of panic ignited deep in his chest at his general inability to reconstruct where he was, how he got there and why. In a bid to calm himself, he channeled his focus on the few details he _could_ evaluate to answer these pressing questions.

First he wiggled his toes, sensations there slowly returning, then tried to raise his right hand and… failed. Another tiny piece of the puzzle his mind had yet to put back into place. Left then. Success. At least partly.

Following the path of his arm down with his eyes, he found a venous cannula embedded into the skin on the back of his hand. The tube leading away from it had tangled itself around an armrest, restricting his mobility greatly. In a dash of grumpy defiance, he _pulled_ – and was rewarded with a ruckus to his left.

“Don’t! Easy. Don’t pull. You're fine.”

A stranger’s hand came to rest on his forearm, keeping it in place with gentle but determined pressure. Running his gaze up the limb, a face appeared above him, just as unfamiliar as the rest of the room. A nurse, Ezra reckoned from the visible attire.

How had he-?

“The girl is fine, too. No need to worry there either.”

The girl. _The girl!_ All fell back into place with that one simple word. The Green Moon. Mutiny. Weeks and weeks of dirt and grueling silence. And _the girl._

“Where-“, he choked out before another fit of coughing prevented him to go on with his attempted question. The nurse picked it up, nevertheless.

“MedWing, Freighter back to the Core,” he explained, his voice carrying the trained calm of medical personnel. “If you referred to the girl, then back to the craft you arrived in”, he spoke on. “There was no need for medical surveillance. And you shouldn’t talk. At least not if not necessary.”

 _No talking? Now that is cruel._ Ezra frowned as the man spoke on.

“We gave your lungs a good sweep, so to say, cleaned all the dust. Your throat might be raw for the remainder of the night. Want a sip of water?”

Ezra blinked sluggishly at that, regarded the man above him as comprehension slowly sank in. Off the moon. He was _off the moon_! Back up in space, _soaring_ among the stars! He felt like leaping off his cot in jubilation, kissing every single person in reach to celebrate this most astounding achievement!

He managed a shaky nod instead.

“Alright, just a second.”

The man disappeared for just about a few excited intakes of breath, then he was back, a half-filled glass of water in his hand. Tap water. Cool, _clear_ and defintely missing the distinct after taste of filtered mud.

All too eager, Ezra clumsily pushed himself up against the raised head of his cot, stubbornly ignoring the dull aching thud in his lower abdomen at the sudden movement. A smile breaking across his face, he reached out his one unsteady hand for the much-desired drink.

Just to be chastised.

“Slowly,” the nurse cautioned. “You won’t do your sore throat good, if you can’t keep it down.”

Heaving a rattling sigh, he flexed his fingers and gave a curt nod. Quite alright, slowly then. He could do that.

*

Having moved the tragedy unfolding from her cluttered workspace to her sleeping quarters, the girl, Cee, as she knew now, lay curled up on Ari’s bunk. Fatigue had eventually caught up to her once her story had ended and her tearful hiccups had subsided. Covered by a flimsy quilt, she slept off the exhaustion of just about everything that had transpired down on the damned Moon’s surface. Every now and then she jolted in her sleep, bothered by nightmares and haunting memories, without doubt.

Braving through those horrendous days must have cost a lot of her remarkable strength. How lonely and small she looked now, poor girl.

How old was she? About fifteen? Sixteen maybe? Ari shook her head wearily as she watched her struggle to finally find some rest.

 _What do I do now?_ She had asked earlier in quiet desperation. And Ari had been at a loss. As much as she would have liked to tell her that everything would turn out alright, she couldn’t bring herself to make such a brittle promise. After declining the generous offer to rejoin the shady remains of her crew, Ari had barely eked out a living by offering her skills as a mechanic to the few travelers taking one last trip along this line before its final shutdown. Sparse earnings to live by, but enough to return to the Core and look around for a permanent employment on a new ship. Exploration along the Fringe, chartering the great Unknown, _that_ was something she had longed to look into for a while now.

But that particular dream had receded far off into the distance for now. For the time being she’d have to figure how to get the girl back on track.

 _Every Floater drifts alone_ , the saying usually goes. But one glance at the curled up girl was enough to strengthen her decision to help. It would be far from the first time for Ari to get accused of being much too soft for the life she was leading.

She’d support the kid for a while. At least until she got back on her own two feet and had come up with a plan. Maybe she’d have her help with the usual repairs on returned pods or broken gadgets, see what she was capable of. Share the payment. And the food.

That might just work.

At least until they reached the Core. Till then, she’d come up with a new idea.

Stifling a yawn, Ari leant back against the yellowed interior paneling of her sleeping quarters, idly dangling both of her hands over the edge of her pulled up knees.

What a great, certainly strange, but stir-up-hope mess.

Eventually her eyes fluttered closed and she dozed for a while, continuously drifting in and out of light slumber as time crawled along.

*

A sudden sound infiltrated the muddled mess of her dream and, just as confused as she was drowsy, Cee blinked her eyes open in the semi-darkness of an unfamiliar room. As she took in her surroundings, she caught movement of another person. Ari, her brain supplied helpfully, as it caught back up to the situation at hand. Her instantly thundering heartbeat settled just a little. When exactly had she surrendered to sleep?

Another high-pitched chirp pierced the silence, prompting the other woman to leap to her feet. Sitting up and rubbing the base of her palm against one eye, Cee turned to peer around the edge and catch sight of what exactly was going on. Just in time to witness Ari freeze in front of her comm-box, headset in hand, struggling to move on. Another chirp began to shrill, demanding attention, but was cut off halfway through as Ari hit the button to accept.

The woman’s brow furrowed in worry as she stated her designation, visibly holding her breath right after to listen intently to whatever the other side hat to say. As seconds trickled by, the tension in her shoulders ebbed away and a small smile broke across her face. Relief, Cee read in it and tilted her head in curiosity.

Mumbling her thanks and a quick goodbye, Ari set the headset back down, stretched securely across the square comm-box.

“MedWing?” Cee inquired, startling Ari. The redhead spun around to face her, the little smile brightening as she nodded.

“Seems like he’s back among the living. Woke up just about an hour ago.”

The corners of her own mouth twitched upwards in sympathy as Cee sunk back onto the surface of her borrowed bunk. So, they had both made it out alive. A little miracle in hindsight. Sunken deep in thought, she stared up at the ceiling, running her eyes along the crisscrossed lines of its paneling.

“I’ll go see him later. Standard nighttime doesn’t allow any visitors, apparently. Wanna come along?”

Startled out of her reverie, Cee raised her head enough to see Ari sink back down on the spot she had occupied earlier.

Should she? Go see him?

Cee pondered the question, now relieved of the pressing stress of pent-up emotion, and calm enough to reflect on the past days. Logic told her _yes_. After all they had, despite all differences in any possible aspect of their very being, grown close through shared misfortune. It had been a necessity to survive. But now that that was accomplished? He was, once again, nothing more but the mere stranger that had greatly contributed to murder her father. Gritting her teeth, she turned over onto her side, facing the wall. What was she supposed to make of that now? What options did she have? Remain alone or join forces with-

“You know what?”

Ari’s words broke her train of though and she remained utterly motionless, listening.

“You don’ need to decide now. Jus’ think about it an’ get some more sleep. I’ll wake you before I leave.”

Closing her eyes once more, Cee wrinkled her nose. _Think about it._

Easier said than done.

*

After all, she had decided to tag along. Given the choice of either going back to the mercs’ ship and sit idle, twiddling her thumbs, or see her ‘partner’ some company, she had come to a quick and easy decision. It wasn’t like he posed any danger there. Either of them. Or would they?

“Who is he?”, she had inquired over a quick and scarce breakfast before heading out. Ari had mulled over her question for a long while before finally settling on an answer that told her basically nothing at all.

"Who he is? Phew, girl, you won’t get that into one sentence properly. He _can_ be a scoundrel – a man on mostly questionable ways but with his heart in the right place, beyond all doubt. He’s a curious dreamer, a fighter and a poet all in one. Well, he tries the latter. You might have gotten a taste of that. But that's what you get an’ more - at least if he doesn't hang you out to dry on the next old dusty chunk of asteroid. So ya better don’ get on his bad side."

Now what was she meant to do with that information? The easy smile the other woman wore through her entire explanation soothed a bit of her worry. But it did not erase it.

Soon after she followed Ari through the desolate corridors of the freighter, still wrecking her brain. If she meant to get through this, to find her feet and move on, then she needed help of someone experienced. And who else could she turn to anyways? There was nobody to trust. Especially not in a freighter hurtling towards the galaxy’s Core after gathering up each and every bit of scum left in this precise strip of the Fringe. Best to turn to the one person she had at least worked with, wasn’t it? Again, her late father’s words drifted though her whirling chaos of thoughts. Maybe it would have been better spending her time cultivating skill. What good did her book do now, except for helping to take her mind off the possible disaster lurking right around the next corner. Her life of dreaming had ended the second her father had decided to rid another man of his hard-earnt gain. And she had inherited the consequences along with his debts. But what if said man was no longer cooperative? Now that he was safe? Her doubts dissolved the second she entered the room he resided in.

Not much of a room it was – more of a small… niche, secluded on two sides by wall and on the others by nothing but thin curtains.

The meager accommodation only served to underline the battered way he looked.

The image he made was a stark contrast to the appearance he had given down in the Green. All signs of potentially dangerous prospector gone, replaced by a battered man. His worn mustard colored IEVA suit had been swapped for a stark white infirmary-gown, one of its wrist length sleeves folded and pinned-up neatly where his right arm would have been. All blood, sweat and grime gathered for Kevva knows how long had been scrubbed off his face, leaving clean suntanned skin beneath the patchy beard he grew. His hair, however, looked worse. Unkempt and bed-ragged, it formed the semblance of a bird’s nest atop his head, unruly locks sticking out in every odd angle. That sole golden streak of his only further accentuating a severe cowlick. Except for the unmistakable dark shadows beneath his eyes, he did look better than she had expected - Given he had almost bled to death just a few hours earlier.

All things considered the whole collection of details made him seem… less feral. Less sinister.

And suddenly it felt like the right decision to at least pay him a visit. Sooner or later she would have to trust him, he had said. And it seemed like he did end up being right in that aspect. After all, he had almost gotten himself killed helping her – and then had urged her to save herself instead of asking for assistance. Whether she owed that to the good heart Ari had claimed he owned or to his obvious knack for dramatics, she couldn’t tell. But she was undeniably glad he had made it. And a tiny voice, deep inside and not yet fully acknowledged, whispered, how nice it was that she wasn’t as lonely as she felt.

As soon as he noticed their entry, Ezra offered a smirk and a tiny wave, greeting his visitors and dismissing most of her remaining tension in one go.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny warning: Conversation about medical issues (amputation, prosthetics etc.). Not in a gory way, though.

"I knew we couldn't trust those guys! I knew it, Ez!" Ari crowed. "That explains my sudden accident, though. And I thought it was my fault, bein' all beside myself and stuff. That had me question my skills!"

He chuckled, the idiot, amused despite the dire outcome of that one risky and, admittedly, naïve decision. Maybe it was relief that either of them still lived. Maybe it was the painkillers. She didn’t care. No matter the reason for his joviality, Ari was glad to see him do so well - even in his miserable overall situation.

She could remember it vividly, that fateful day that had led them to, eventually, _this_. List and his posse of scoundrels had always had her on edge. Whenever they ran into them - a rather frequent occurrence, given similar interests, aims and an overlapping territory of space to work in - throughout their travels, it had always been a careful dance of wariness and rivalry around each other.

They were efficient, smart, but just as ruthless. So, when, to the surprise of many, competitor List had proposed a deal, a ‘cooperation’, Ari had been among the first to raise a protest. A trip to the Green Moon, a place steeped in legends of immeasurable riches, was proposed. List and his men requested assistance by Ezra's seasoned motley crew of prospectors and explorers to follow a lead in their possession and yield the treasure it promised. Even split of profit for everyone involved, of course.

And the _Screamer_ just fit perfectly for transport, didn't it? What a coincidence.

Her own crew had harbored a fair share of doubt initially. But desire and greed came quick to eradicate the vital skill to scrutinize a shady offer. One thing led to another and the majority voted pro. About two days and a few vocal protests later, Ari found herself on her way back to the Core in the freighters MedWing – injured and furious, obviously, but just as strangely relieved, that she was spared the perilous trip into The Green – just as she was worried for the well-being of her trusted crew. Capable, strong people that knew their way around the galaxy - but none the less mortal. Cupidity sealed doom for them. Well, most of them.

"After the upset you caused?” Ezra replied, witty smirk still in place. “No huge surprise, indeed. I'm glad to see you well."

"Can't say the same 'bout you. Ah, the well part, that is. Not the seeing part." She responded with a not too subtle glance across his battered body, while she floundered for words.

"’Tis good to have you back."

“Offer your most profound thanks to this little bird.”

He gestured in Cee’s general direction. The girl had refrained from joining in on the conversation of two strangers. Instead, she had positioned herself a few steps away, leaning against the wall and _listening_ attentively. Smart girl.

“We make a fine team, I dare say.” Ezra went on, coaxing a little smile out of her. “But everything comes with a prize, does it not? I’d tell you it cost me an arm and a leg, but look at me, the universe felt generous and granted me a discount.”

He wiggled his right shoulder in good humor to further lighten the mood. His attempt failed miserably as both his visitors tried to direct their gazes anywhere but _there_. Maybe a little early to make fun of that, thought Ari. On the other hand – wait, let’s rephrase that – _Then again_ , there wasn’t much else to do about it, was there? Except for-

"Have you thought... 'bout replacing it?" She asked tentatively, breaking the heavy silence that dared to settle.

He paused, considered, bristled visibly at whatever imagine of barely concealed terror her suggestion evoked in him. She couldn’t help but gaze from him to Cee and back again. Field amputation was never fun, granted. But it seemed, in this particular case, it had been extraordinarily disturbing. Given that he had been on the Green Moon for weeks on end and medical supplies were rare to get by – at least affordable ones – these days, she could imagine it much too vividly despite having been spared the details.

“Wouldn’t that be incredibly expensive?” The girl piped up and all gazes were drawn to her.

“Usually, yes,” said Ari. If field kits were expensive, one could imagine the price of a fully functioning bionic limb. And anything below that was mostly meant for aesthetics solely. While Ezra was indeed a man to care for his appearance – rugged handsomeness would be a proper description for the prospector – Ari couldn’t imagine him investing in anything less than Neurobond. For a man so skilled with words, he always had harbored an endearing affinity for touch. In communication, in exploration, in work. His right hand had to be a devastating loss. So, function it was, that mattered.

In mobility almost as efficient as any limb you were born with, neurobonded prosthetics were durable and sensible. Not yet capable of telling you a difference between hot and cold, but very much equipped with artificial skin to sense touch, it was the best option to pick. The more you paid, the more delicate the sensory capabilities got. A truly fascinating field of research that Ari had been very much invested in, before following her ever-present compulsion to hop on the next ship and reach for the stars.

“I do have some connections, still. Back in the Core. I might be able to strike an affordable deal if I manage to provide the hardware. Which shouldn’t be much of a problem, I’ve got the experience-“

“I’ll consider it and let you know if I am interested.”

Both turning back to the man in question, Ari shut her mouth at his visible discomfort. She felt for him, deeply. Stuck between a rock and a hard place, he had not much choice in the matter. If he declined, he would, sooner or later, have to give up on harvesting and prospecting altogether. It was a hard and, quite literally, hands-on job. Both hands that is, if you didn’t want to rely on an assistant constantly. Also, there would be struggle on an everyday basis, no matter which kind of future occupation he picked.

His other option was pain. In a physical sense. Cutting through flesh and bone was torturous enough, anesthetics or not. But bonding electronics to remaining nerve endings in a waking state to test the functionality was quite another matter. And, after living through that hell, the actual fastening of socket to bone and flesh was yet to come.

Ari had assisted quite a few times along her studies and the screams – well, it was perfectly reasonable to exclude the facilities from general hospitals. She shivered at the memory.

But once the whole dreadful procedure was done, and the patients came back for maintenance and physical check-up, the indescribable joy they radiated soothed over the terror that preceded it.

While Ari drifted on in memory, Ezra had already wiped the misery off his face and turned the conversation to much lighter topics, carefully tiptoeing around all sensible matters concerning about everything that involved The Green. Wounds still too fresh, physically as mentally, demanded to be reflected upon individually before being talked over.

He still effortlessly managed to fill the void of meaningful talk with lighthearted stories, his silver tongue free of restraint, despite his general fettle. If anything, he seemed ecstatic to finally have people genuinely _respond_ to what tales he spun instead of just shushing him or meeting him with deafening silence. Conversations went on and his enthusiasm clearly won over evident exhaustion.

At least until a nurse stepped in to effectively shut him up for a few seconds by handing him a glass of water and some sort if medication in form of capsules.

That done, she handed him a plastic tray. Atop it, a meager meal, mainly consisting of broth and vegetable mush to spare the patient's injured intestines. Apparently he had been lucky, if one could consider themselves such after being impaled on a bayonet.

Before they left him to eat in privacy, Ari had managed to get bits out of the woman scurrying around the space to hook up a new drip of medication. Apparently the sharp edge of metal had barely grazed his guts, slipping in between instead of actually piercing though anything vital. That leaving ‘just’ the obvious wound and loss of blood, the damage had been perfectly mendable.

Three more days he would need to stay until he was stable enough to leave the MedWing with a bag of painkillers, antibiotics and whatever the doctor deemed necessary. Where he went then, they didn't care. Clearing the space for other potential patients was their foremost concern. Critical care and getting you stable was all that was provided – well, unless you could wave a display of points in their faces to extend your stay. Not that the lodging and meals were very desirable…

So, that not being an option, Ezra could either hop off when swinging by the Pug or remain aboard the freighter if he found a spot to sleep in for the remaining time of travel.

"The _Leaper_ is big enough for the two of us." Cee had offered tentatively. "We could share."

But insecurity was written all across her youthful face. No matter how you turned the situation, she would always either end up alone or sharing with strangers. Sensing her trouble, Ari cut in before she could nail herself down on something she didn’t want.

"I've rented a pod that can accommodate two. The _Leaper_ can take at least four comfortably. Lots of space, we'll figure it out. Until then you're welcome to stay with me, Cee. If ya like, that is."

After all, staying with a friendly stranger might just be a tad nicer than sharing space with nothing but your own rampaging thoughts and gruesome memories. And she sure had a lot of those to carry around.

Her suggestion was met with a nod much more confident than she had anticipated. But who could say no to cornflakes anyway?

*

The decision was made over night. Literally. After setting up a second provisory cot in Ari’s cramped pod, it quickly became evident that this would not be the solution to go by. The _Leaper_ offered more space and therefore more comfort. It just needed a bit of… reshaping.

So, as morning hours came with the subtle change of light through artificial dawn, they set to work, ridding the small craft of unpleasant memories.

Three days were spent well, cleaning away the blood and dirt and restructuring the _Leaper’s_ innards to comfortably fit three people. To accomplish that, they had split the mostly empty cargo hold in thirds, each piece-of-pie-shaped segment divided from the other by hitching a few blankets to the ceiling. The hems of their make-shift partitions met at the ladder at the center of the room, leading up into the cockpit.

After transferring the two foldable cots from Ari’s pod to the _Leaper_ and setting them up, they filled the third with a used one, acquired by haggling in the cantina one late evening. Another blanket and two flat pillows came along with it, completing their task of ‘furnishing’ their quarters.

That accomplished, they shifted to mend odds and ends within the craft. Starting by fixing the mutinous space heater, Cee quickly proved her outstanding skill. Already versed in basics of electronics and mechanics through the tinkering she had done throughout her travels, she put her competence to use wherever she could and sooner than expected, they stood amidst their work, admiring the substantial improvement they had achieved. Just in time to welcome their third and therefore final bunkmate.

While all three of them gathered in one craft might have been the most awkward way of coexistence, it certainly was the most practicable solution to overcome a lot of challenges, foreseeable in varying degrees.

Beginning with assisting Ezra in any struggle he was about to face during everyday life and right up to talking each other through sleepless nights, forging plans for the future ahead. It was a nice prospect, actually, given that neither of them was much in the mood of brooding in solitude.

When Ezra first set foot into the refurbished Leaper, he felt rather amazed. Even though he had only taken in his surroundings through a haze of pain and fear on his first flight within the craft, he had come to the conclusion that it was one rundown heap of steel, screws and padding.

It still was.

But now it was one _cozy_ heap of scrap.

Both of his new, old partners had gone all out revamping the entire interior. Now it was clean, mostly operative and, well, neat.

The furniture was scarce, obviously missing the many knickknacks and trinkets he tended to somehow accumulate wherever he made himself at home - for the simple reason that all of it had either remained aboard the _Screamer_ or down in The Green. However, the colorful quilts dividing their respective private space along with a few strings of fairy lights (no doubt of Ari’s possession) stapled to the insulated padding at the head of each bunk, gave the entire inside a warm and comfy, almost buoyant vibe that he very much enjoyed.

And like that, bathed in the soft glow of synthetic fireflies, they sat through their first night aboard the _Leaper_. Quilts slung out of the way to join the space back into one, he reciprocated the kindness shown to him by taking his two companions on a fantastic journey to alien worlds, of which some he had been to and some he had not, weaving stories of adventure, suspense and magnificent beauty. And, strangely enough, in the unfamiliar space he now occupied, smiles and curiosity chased away the lingering shadows - and he felt home.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lots of introspection and self-reflection in this chapter. Focus on mainly Ezra and Cee. A few explanations to further build my story on. As always, feedback is much appreciated. Enjoy reading. :)

Three more weeks and the freighter would reach its final destination. The Core.

A fine destination if one was either well-heeled enough to afford the luxury awaiting or, including themselves, desperate enough to hunt for occupation in hopes of achieving the former.

The system, consisting of five highly populated planets, arranged around its binary ever-dancing suns, derived its name from its close position to the galaxy’s center. But not just in a physical way.

With its innermost three planets hosting the Ephrate, political and academic core of the known universe, it was a place many strived to set foot in. Permanently, if possible.

If you succeeded in that, all doors stood open to you.

The Ephrate housed elite schools and universities, providing a versatile selection of educational choices, the government of the Core Regions and the most enormous companies specialized in prospecting and exploration, continuously financing massive first-time expeditions into the Fringe.

The main goal: Examining unknown systems for sources of food, artifacts or other valuable resources.

Once a planet or moon was discovered, a party of explorers was sent out to investigate the target of interest.

When you came back, a positive feedback in hand, you were most generously compensated for your selfless service to humanity. Well, _if_ you came back, that is.

After that, the target was either colonized if habitable or exploited by contracted prospectors. Only then freelancers, such as Ezra himself, were generously allowed to dig through the dusty remains. Some got lucky. Others not so much. But at least, it spared you the unpredictable perils of unchartered space.

It took them just a few days of the remaining three weeks aboard the freighter to fall into a comfortable rhythm. Long late-night talks were part of it, a silent agreement to ease away the vespertine tension of nightmares lurking to strike.

The subjects of conversation were invariably light. Old stories of past ventures, literature, music, effectively meaningless discourses about essentially everything that did not, in any way, touch sensible issues or unsettling future decisions. Which had to be debated at some point, naturally. But not in the dead of night, leading to nothing but vexing ruminations for all involved.

Regardless of the efforts made, sleep remained no gentle guest – if it could be persuaded to lull you in at all.

Recovery proved itself a toilsome track, particularly in that department. In spite of medication and general fatigue, giving himself up to sweet slumber demanded steely self-control to ignore the bizarre sensations lingering.

A tinnitus was children’s game compared to the peculiar and excruciating pain of clenched fingers no longer existent.

Throughout the many ups and downs of a life led wild, Ezra had experienced his fair share of bodily defects evoked by continuous stress or dread. He’d learned to overhear the nonexistent rumble of engines when he was no longer aboard a starship. He’d found acceptance for his sudden flares of temper when persistent worry took its toll on him.

Losing a limb, however, and therefore its much-appreciated functionality, but keeping the pain it might cause? That was just outright disheartening.

He dealt with it in miserable silence, either versifying his days spent in The Green or quietly reciting poesy deeply engraved into his mind to keep it occupied.

Once in a while, when relentless anguish kept scratching his sanity, he resorted to violently burying his teeth into the flimsy cover of his pillow to muffle any sound daring to claw its way up his constricting throat.

Most nights he succeeded. Some he did not. And in one of those dreaded nights, a whisper broke the silence, otherwise only disturbed by the rustle of fabric of his tossing and turning.

“You okay?”

He recognized concern in the kid’s hushed voice and ceased his shuffling immediately. Screwing his eyes shut, he sucked in a long, deep breath. Trusting his voice to be steady enough, he spoke.

“’M fine, birdie. Don’t fret.”

A pause then.

“You’re a bad liar,” she whispered back through the fabric barrier. “I don’t even need to see your face.”

He couldn’t help but chuckle lowly at her certainty.

She didn’t miss a thing, that girl, her sharp mind unceasingly attentive and filled with so much more life lesson than the slim shoulders of a teen should ever carry.

“Go back to sleep,” he said, forcing his own low voice to form steady words, not eager to cement her worry any further. They all had their crosses to bear. Hers was heavy enough.

To his relief she spared him further protest. And silence fell again.

Come morning, routine picked up afresh in terms of oatmeal, cornflakes and that sorry excuse for coffee one could acquire aboard the standard-class freighters. Once shared breakfast had passed, Ezra was usually left to his own devices as Ari and Cee headed out to make sparse earnings by offering repairs to fellow travelers. To their shared dismay, what little they gained was but a drop in the ocean of debt ahead. Two rented pods had to be paid off – the dues of one nearly doubled for it still lay broken in The Green. There was cost for sustenance and, once they reached the Core, for docking the _Leaper_ and lodging.

The closer that day came, the fiercer Ezra mourned the loss of his entire yield in their hasty escape from the Kevva forsaken moon.

It was a pity. That one case of Aurelac would have had them sufficiently monied for weeks, months probably, if they economized efficiently. Plenty enough time to gain new footing and, in best circumstances, a permanent employment to secure the situation.

But it was lost along the way, like so much of himself in any possible interpretation. What he had gained in return was not measurable in its worth and outweighed the losses significantly. Without any doubt.

But what was he meant to do, if he couldn’t provide for it. Them. Or at least _contribute_ to gain a living.

Even now, his assistance was as good as no help at all. Handing tools his weaker arm was strong and stable enough to heft. Providing verbal advice those two bright women could go perfectly well without. That was all he could offer.

So, after accompanying them twice, he refrained from doing so a third time.

Instead, he invested his energy in regaining a mobility and sensitivity his right one possessed in the remaining left hand. A tiresome and, avowedly, unsatisfactory task, for it did not meet his aspirations in any way. Days into his practice, the scrawl of written words he produced was near illegible.

He attempted sketching as well, aiming to replicate the _Leaper's_ intricate innards in pencil scribbles to enhance his motor abilities. Mostly, his efforts wound up in drawing utensils flying across the room, not seldomly accompanied by colorful profanities.

The worst of it all, however, was: Even if he succeeded to persuade himself to take the leap and undergo the procedure of attaching an artificial limb, he would have to relearn it all the same.

'Frustrating' was, by all means, a tremendous understatement to describe his situation.

When time arrived for his companions to return on each evening, he composed himself, buried his ire beneath an easy smile and encouraged himself to prepare the day's second (and last) warm meal. To the best of his ability, of course.

They were two weeks into their travel, when his book of practice hurtled once again, leading him to a discovery, that took his mind off his own toils for a while.

Having taken down one blanket in its flight, the book had landed with a thud in Cee’s segment of their sleeping quarters.

Muttering to himself in blatant dismay, Ezra struggled to pin the quilt back in its rightful place, before he slipped through underneath its hem in search for the blasted book of scribbles. He found it beside her cot, its poor back broken as it lay open atop another familiar journal.

Pausing to think, he regarded his own battered one before pushing it aside and picking up the one underneath. Worn through months, maybe years, of frequent use, its edges were attrite, its cover dented and faded in many places. It owned a strange kind of mysterious beauty, all timeworn and beat.

Again, he halted, considered if it was too big a violation of privacy. The journal in hand, he sat onto the girl’s cot, heaving a heavy sigh. She had urged him to read it someday, had she not?

Giving in to curiosity and the desperate desire to occupy his rampant mind, he flipped it open.

Just a peek.

Leafing backwards though the pages, his gaze fell upon the her last lengthy entry, dated in standard time days before her arrival in The Green.

After that:

_‘I’_

That was it. That was the one single word she had jotted down since then. Dateless and lonely it sat at the top of the page, leaving the rest of it unsettling empty. Tearing his eyes away from it and directing them at the ceiling instead, Ezra shut the book.

And mused.

*

Days spent with Ari were… entertaining, Cee had to admit early on into their uneven partnership. The older woman did waste no chance to banter in good humor, wherever she went. It seemed to have a certain charm, quickly wrapping potential clients around her finger to let her skill shine afterwards. Most jobs they reeled in were quick and easy things.

“Fix my water recycling circuit.” Or “Could you take a look at my comm system? It keeps crackling horribly.”

In each job taken on, Ari had made it her task to talk Cee through the procedure to spot and fix errors. She explained necessary basics and demonstrated more complicated repairs, constantly pausing for Cee to ask questions. So, despite the work being mainly simple and swift, Cee found herself thoroughly exhausted at the end of each day.

As she was now. Letting herself flop backward onto her cot, she folded one arm across her face and consciously willed her body to relax. Constantly hunkering in cramped niches of pods and all types of little spacecrafts certainly left its traces, solidifying in sore muscles all over her body. But it was good work. Legit work. And as time crawled on, she came to enjoy it. A little at least.

“Hey.”

The simple syllable had her jolt, regardless of its familiarity. Dragging her arm off her face, she propped herself up on both elbows to spot Ezra peeking into her part of the Leaper. Curious, she tilted her head.

“Mind if I come in?”

She gave a noncommittal shrug and raised herself into a sitting position, pulling her knees up to grant him some space to sit.

Following that invitation, he stepped around the quilt and situated himself beside her, tucking his long legs beneath her bunk to accommodate the little space he got.

In his hand, he held a book – _her_ book, she realized - careful as if it might fall apart the second he gripped it too forcefully.

She had to turn her gaze away, almost ashamed to see him treat the irritating object with such gentle care.

“This is yours.” He stated, matter-of-factly. “I sincerely hope you are not vexed with me for borrowing it earlier today.”

“I'm not.” She shot back curtly, still not daring to look. After all, she had encouraged him herself to read ‘ _The Streamer Girl’_. But now-

“I don’t write anymore. I…” She blurted out and broke off, a frown creeping across her face, as she was not exactly certain how she could phrase it. If she should try to phrase it at all. Over weeks spent in close quarters, Ari and Ezra had both become more to her than simple acquaintances.

Confidants. Friends. If she was to talk to someone, it was them. And she had considered it for a while now.

“You?” He prompted at her silence, without doubt studying her in unveiled curiosity.

She had brought it up to him already. So, why not just bite the bullet and out with it? Easy. Because often enough she had been admonished for it, sneered at almost. But Ezra had done none of that. He had listened, free of judgement or skepticism.

“I… just wish I were with them.” She began and tucked her chin into her folded arms. “ _Like_ them. Still. But I’m not. And I’m afraid…”

“That you’re less.” He finished her sentence quietly. She hesitated, then nodded.

“Well-” He flipped the journal open, leafing through the pages from back to front, using his remaining real thumb for the sensible task. She couldn’t help but look now, fighting the urge to snatch it from his fingers. _Most_ of it was ‘ _The Streamer Girl_ ’ rewritten, but some pages, some notes, were personal. But Ezra being Ezra, just skipped across any page that might contain the tiniest personal content, not even thinking about peeking. Instead, he eventually settled on a page carrying a neatly written headline. _‘Chapter 1: The start of our journey’_ it read in bold, underlined letters.

To her surprise, he fell utterly silent then and she tore her gaze from the pages to study his face at that. In concentrated thoughtfulness, his eyes followed the lines of her writing. Every now and then, a smile tugged at his lips, his mustache twitching each time. And he read. And read. Long enough to make her wonder, if he had actually forgotten, that he had been about to say something a while ago. Apparently, he had not. Turning another page, to reveal the header of the second chapter, he briefly closed his eyes. When he opened them again, he had turned his head, his gaze trained on her.

“I… grasp why you are so invested in this story. You paint a picture of a life to be longed for. But, and do not understand me wrong, the grass is always greener on the other side. If you want to move on from your dreamin’, do it. But don’t deem yourself less than the people you read about, just because you’ve led a life that carries different hardships, just as it carries stunning beauty. Which girl of fifteen years can claim to have seen the sun set across the hills of a distant sylvan moon? Or tell a story about saving the life of another _twice_? Put your words to use. Do not let your talent wither.”

That said, he laid the book down at her feet and rose back to his own. Still stunned by his cryptic encouragement, Cee stared. At the journal. Then at him. Write about her own life? Her own story? She could hardly imagine anyone would ever want to read-

“I’ll be looking forward to read more of your work. Your own, preferentially. Good literature is hard to come by around here. But as much as I enjoyed the first chapter of _'The Streamer Girl'_ , I do prefer a good ol' adventure story.”

He turned to slip back through their make-shift partition but stilled, his single hand holding the quilt aside. Smirking over his shoulder, he added:

“Ah- You might consider leaving out the Jata Bhalu bit, though. Certainly impressive, I grant you that, but it might make grown men shiver.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The story's taking a certain course now! A big thank you to everyone who has been reading it so far! Please enjoy this new chapter as well.

“He’s in pain.”

Ari stilled amidst adjusting the replacement for a faulty fuse to turn and watch the girl at her side. Taking in the worry on her face, she nodded once and directed her focus back at the task at hand.

“I know.”

“But he doesn’t want us to know.” Cee concluded, as she watched the screens around them flicker back to life as soon as the power circuit was switched back on.

Shutting the compartment of chaotic wiring, Ari wiped off both of her hands on her overall.

“No, he doesn’t. Blame it on prospecting. Or generally any other job out ‘ere. Once ya get…” 

She halted, bit her lip, seemingly seeking for a word – or finding none that was adequate. She shoved her hands into her pockets and shrugged.

“Well, once ya get ‘less useful’ ya usually get marooned real quick. It’s a habit, not showin’ weakness. Trust yourself and nobody else.”

Cee knew that well enough, yes. She’d experienced it early on, that there had been little to no people beside her father that had not, at some point, somehow, tried to rip them off or stab their back. Quite literally on some occasions.

“But we’re not going to-“

“Nah! Never. Not going to leave ‘im in the lurch.”

A bright grin broke across her tutor’s face and a strange wave of relief crashed over Cee. Not that she had gotten an impression that Ari would leave either of them hanging. But hearing it spoken aloud was somehow reassuring, nonetheless.

“He's saved my clumsy butt more often than I'd ever admit.” The woman chuckled before her face turned grim with concern. “The pain worries me, though. Heard ‘im as well, tossin’ about all night. Phantom pain, I reckon.” 

Cee raised a brow at that, and Ari picked up her unspoken question. She gestured to her right arm and it dawned on Cee. 

“Nasty but not uncommon. Sometimes it may feel like a lost limb’s still attached, moving or sensing somethin’. Sometimes it just hurts. Like muscles crampin’ that you can’t relax ‘cause they aren’t there anymore.” Said Ari and kneeled on the grating to pick up her tools. Cee followed suit to make herself useful.

“Not much ya can do about it. Well, not much _we_ can do about it, to be precise. Painkillers make it bearable. But I don’t think the pain’s what bothers him most.” 

“It’s the missing hand.”

Ari hummed in response and shut the box of tools. 

“And there’s but one solution for that.”

  
*

  
Two more days of travel separated them from their destination still, but Ezra found himself grow more restless with each passing hour. Now, that his health had improved appreciably, he set about leaving the _Leaper_ every other hour to meander through the freighter’s lorn hallways. Many travelers had jumped off as they had swung by the Pug, leaving the floating heap of scrap metal to the truly desperate. 

And desperate he was.

So, after careful consideration, he had come to a decision. All that was left, was to muster up the courage to voice it. And soon at that.

  
*

  
Sweat beaded Ezra’s forehead that night, stuck his fringe unpleasantly to his skin, as he rolled over on his left to press his face into the pillow sideways.   
Another fierce stab of sheer agony shot up his nonexistent arm and forced him to swallow a wretched whimper. He almost prevailed. Almost.  
But not entirely. 

And the miserable sound aroused attention of his bunkmate. Unlike Cee, bless the girl, his old friend did not bother to ask permission before intruding. At the rustle of cloth across his quarters, he raised his head out of the cushion to glare. And there she was, shoving the fabric out of the way to pin it to the _Leaper’s_ wall and glare right back.

“Enough of this,” Ari murmured. A frown furrowed her brow, casting deep shadows across her face in the twilit room. “You’re gettin’ the girl all worried. She’s been askin’ me today.”

He grunted. He hadn’t meant to. Obviously.  
His lack of verbal response seemed to only serve in further strengthening her resolve.

“Shove over, stubborn.” She muttered, slipped out from under her blanket and threw her legs over the side of her cot.   
Shuffling over to his own, she waved her hands in an upwards motion.  
“Sit.”

“What for?”

“Just do so.” 

Begrudgingly he followed her command and scrambled into a sitting position at the top of his bunk.  
She twirled her index finger, urging him to turn his back on her. Regarding her with a disquieting mixture of irritation and puzzlement, he stilled.

“Will ya hurry up?” She hissed and he gave in. Heaving a sigh and gritting his teeth, he pulled his legs up to sit cross-legged ahead of her. The rickety bunk whined behind his back as she situated herself.

“Relax.” He heard her murmur and he attempted it, fruitlessly. 

“This might help to ease the pain,” she whispered, and he winced as her hands settled gently against his t-shirt-clad back. “But no promises.”

In deliberate, even circles she dragged her thumbs across the muscle at the base of his neck, draining the tension away that pain had charged his body with.   
She worked her hands along his upper back, applying tender pressure as she went, and he felt himself unwind beneath her touch.  
The steady throb along his right remained, but shifted away, into a bearable distance.

Her attention turned elsewhere then, followed the line of his shoulders to his left and down along his bicep. Leisurely her fingers dug into the flesh of his arm, soothing away the strain. Left… and right.   
His eyes fluttered closed as the searing burn slowly ebbed away into a dull throb, steadily reducing its intensity. A swirl of exhaustion swept across his body and he hummed softly in contentment, his pain induced spleen melting away as his breathing evened out. 

Ari’s skillful fingers reached his hand, her thumbs gently rubbing slow patterns into the damp skin of his palm, as she spoke again.

“You’ve come to a decision?”

It was more of a statement, than an actual question. He cracked his tired eyes open and studied the opposing padded wall pensively. He had, indeed.

“I’ll need your help.”

“You already have it,” she whispered back. And it was true, in an unsettling way. He’d become far too dependent on other people’s benevolence lately. 

“What do you demand in return?”

She chuckled at that, pausing her ministrations before moving on to stretch and knead each of his fingers in turn.

“Ever the tradesman, huh? In return…”

He assumed she was mulling over the query as silence settled. A realization that had him swallow heavily. The aid she offered was in no way to be taken for granted.  
The movement of her fingers against his stilled and he awaited her claim.

“I want to join an exploration party.” She said and his heart stumbled. 

"I know the risks. But it’s tempting. Not just for compensation, I mean. I'm… sick of diggin' through the debris others left behind. I wanna see somethin' new."

A pause. He considered turning to see her expression. And decided against it.

"I need someone on the crew, that I can trust." 

There it was. Her demand. Company into the Unknown. The mere idea had the fine hair on his neck stand up in tacit dissent. He'd barely survived his last trip. And he'd known the hazard then. Throwing himself straight into the next emprise, headfirst and with not the slightest inkling of what awaited? Seldomly had he felt this queasy about a suggestion.

"It's... just an offer. Not a demand." She clarified in a haste, making it abundantly clear that she did not urge him to anything.

He closed his eyes, furrowed his brow. She'd help him nonetheless; He understood as much. And, by all means, once familiar with an artificial limb, he could pick up his former occupation, go prospecting. Contracted even, to guarantee regular payments. It wouldn't be much, not barely scraping what a proper harvest brought in as a freelancer, even split among a crew. But enough to keep him and the girl from starving. Not enough, however, to cover the immense cost of proper education. He ground his teeth. He owed her as much, did he not? Even though most of his rescue had been a truly fortuitous fluke, he would no longer be sitting here, mulling over his options, if it wasn’t for her. He didn’t dare making potentially empty promises just yet. But if possible, he’d offer her to grasp the life she so longed for.

"Ez?" Ari inquired and he registered the worry lacing her voice.

Exploration parties were rewarded a hefty upfront payment to cover for rent, pets, family or whatever you left behind once you set out into the Great Unknown. It would cover the fees.

"Deal."

His one, single syllable cut through the heavy silence like a scalpel. He gripped Ari's hand in his own, squeezed it briefly, before he let go to throw a glance across his shoulder. A stunned expression had settled across her features, rendering her mute.

"I'll accompany you. In exchange for your aid in acquiring a prosthetic limb, attaching it and maintenance for the entire expedition's duration."

A slow, uncertain grin spread across her face and the green of her eyes lit up in unveiled excitement.

"Deal." She echoed. And Ezra wondered quietly, if he had just, in the matter of one sentence, sealed their doom. Well, the girl would be left with his payment, he'd make sure of that before leaving.

He had always been a bird in flight, independent, unbound by contract, bowing to no command. And if he was to clip his own wings, it would be for the sake of exploration, the beauty of new, untouched worlds.   
To take a new leap into unknown waters, hand in hand with a trusted soul. A grant finish to the life of an incorrigibly reckless fool. 

He mirrored her grin.  
If this adventure would mark his end, he'd sure as hell make it a glorious one.

  
*

  
With a metallic scrape, the _Leaper_ dispatched from the dormant freighter. The hiss of maneuvering jets propelled the tiny craft towards its destination, the Core’s central docking station. From there it would be no more than a tiny hop down to the surface aboard a shuttle. She was almost there. Almost she had reached that one goal that had seemed so out of grasp for the entirety of her young life. The _Ephrate!_ Schools, University, an ordinary every day life. All Cee had ever longed for. Her heart should be beating out of her chest in joy and utter excitement! And, admittedly, it was. But it had a sad, almost painful tinge to every single thud. 

While logic and a life led hoping dictated her to be overjoyed at this new perspective, her mind was wandering elsewhere. Through the _Leaper's_ one big porthole, she watched the shuttles depart from and drift into the hangar, steadily growing in size as they closed in in the station. 

But she couldn’t keep her mind from circling. Couldn't keep herself from mulling over that one late-night conversation she had unintentionally eavesdropped on…


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A rather short chapter this time, because (and oh, the irony) my arm is killing me and typing is a literal pain at the moment. Please enjoy reading it anyway. It might take me a few days to post a new update, though.

Getting into an exploration crew was fairly easy. You could practically limp in with your severed head pinned beneath your arm. As long as you still had it in you to board a ship, the company welcomed every single volunteer with open arms.

Not many people were willing to put their lives on the line to satisfy the many needs of a steadily growing human population - even with the prospect of handsome payment. It was tempting to make your riches elsewhere, preferentially under more... predictable terms. Of course, most of those opportunities were just as precarious. But the illusion of control was, what led people away from the gamble of exploration.

Nevertheless, Ezra now stared down at his scrawled signature, barely discernible as his name. An expedition contract, stating his newborn ‘loyalty’ to the company providing his wage. Enough to pay for surgery. And enough to have Cee safe and sound, tucked away in one of the Ephrate's finest educational establishments. Money could buy you essentially anything around here. Never having set foot into a school ever before raised no great hurdle to join one - if you could afford the fees. Parental consent was just another little bump in the road, that was easily avoided by the way of generous douceur funneled into a corrupt system. She'd be admitted and cordially received in no time. And he very much hoped she would soon be making new friends and her future. At least until she was old and experienced enough to validly pick her own path.

A smile skittered across his face. An ugly one it was, all uncertain and twitchy. But a smile, nonetheless.

A last time, he turned each page of the detailed contract and eventually shoved it into an envelope, pinned between his knees, to send it back to the company. He'd read it carefully, twice, frowning every now and then at the privileges he would give up. Among those:

> Every right to claim the resources he found (or their market value) as his own.
> 
> Every right to reveal any information concerning the expedition, before and after his return, to anybody beside his direct contacts within the company.
> 
> Every right to sue the company for any damage taken to his person, his goods and chattels, the crew, or the provided vessel.
> 
> Every right on rescue, if the company did not deem it safe (or economic) to send out a second team for that purpose.

Fundamentally, to simplify pages of extensive legislative texts, with his signature, he had become another pricey throwaway tool in their compilation. An expansion of company's eyesight. A living binocular, one might say, to glimpse the still hidden riches of the Fringe.

He tossed the envelope onto the cocktail table at his feet and sunk back into the cushions, allowing his head to loll rearwards against the settee’s backrest.

It bordered on sheer luxury, the tiny hotel room they had rented for their stay. Not by ordinary standards, no, far from that. But compared to months spent in a dingily tent on a moon that actively tried to kill you, yes, it was.

Distinctly more comfortable than the freighter, or more specifically the Leaper, as well.

He let his eyes slip closed, scratched the scruff on his chin and yawned. One could get used to this. If one could afford it, that was.

Real food. Strolls through breathable air without wrestling into a nasty suit beforehand. Warm, _long_ showers. He’d miss it. And he’d look forward to it.

To retiring. Settling down somewhere remote and calm. Lush and green, but nontoxic. Friendly. Free… A house… with a study… lots an’ lots of tomes… stacked board to board on countless shelves… whispering stories into the flickering twilight… the warmth of a crackling fireplace…

*

Six standard weeks. Forty-two cycles. That was the time granted for first time explorers to prepare themselves for the venture ahead. Within those six weeks, you were assigned to a team, then to a spacecraft and, eventually, to the destination you would set out to scout, somewhere out in the Fringe.

A planetary system thus far only observed by scientists holed up in the safety of their labs and offices within the Ephrate.

What you did with those six weeks? That was all up to you. You could spend the time getting to know the comrades you would be stuck with for weeks of travel, take courses in survival techniques or whatever choice of the company's educational program met your taste, or, and that was no uncommon choice, you could go out and drown your anxiety in the bar down the street. The company didn't care.

Once you passed the interview and test, which consisted of basic knowledge and skill necessary to fulfil their demands, they let you be. And that was, with their experience of years spent prospecting, the case for Ari and Ezra.

Which was good, given the one tiny obstacle yet to be broken through. Six weeks were plenty enough time for prosthetic surgery and physical recovery to take place. Basic motoric abilities would be present immediately afterwards and the time of travel aboard a ship into the Unknown would make a perfect opportunity for finetuning it.

All that Ari had left to do was pull the strings to make it happen.

And that, she did.

She had approached an old colleague, days before their arrival in the Ephrate, via comms. The one and only she trusted. Not just because of his convincingly good reputation, but also because she had worked and learned in his workshop for years before she had saved up enough to bite the bullet and hop onto the next ship to leave the planet and see the galaxy.

And that was where she went.

When she stepped into his office, she was greeted with well-known meticulous neatness and the stinging scent of disinfectant. Even though the facility had grown, changed through the years into a modern version of the one she knew, not much had changed about this room. And neither about its sole occupant.

Hunched over some readouts, glasses precariously perched on the very tip of his pointy nose, sat a white coat, checking every imaginary box of the cliché.

“Rem.” She greeted, and he nearly dropped his pen as his head snapped up at once. The smooth thing danced across his fingers, slipped and he snatched it awkwardly with both hands before it dropped to the floor entirely.

Not a change, indeed. She laughed at the glare he mustered, indignantly shoving his glasses upwards, just for them to slide back down the second his fingers settled back on his knee.

“Ari. I see, you’ve really made it back in one piece.”

“Seems like it, huh?” She quipped, not bothering to hide her mirth. How long had it been that he’d shooed her out, grousing ceaselessly how he would _not_ cobble her together if she came back crawling?

“I still need you to fix something – rather someone – for me. Would you do that?”

He scrunched up his nose in a discontented sniff and took her in, top to toe. A set of deep wrinkles manifested itself on his pale forehead, as both bushy brows drew together and traveled up, up, almost disappearing beneath a messy dark fringe.

"Well, I'm inclined to believe that favors of this magnitude might no longer be adequate, hm?"

Her smile stretched a little wider.

"No worries, Rem, we'll pay. All I'm askin’ is a timely appointment and that you do the procedure. There won't be much chance for us to come back for corrections. So, no mess-ups."

If those brows could draw up any higher, they did.

"And why's that, if I may ask?"

"We're headed out for exploration.” Ari shrugged. “About six weeks from now. I need ‘im functional."

He pulled a face. And what might have looked like refusal to anybody else, was undoubtedly a good sign to her. He was considering it. Even if he was far from pleased. But that, after all, was nothing new. He’d always been a big ol’ grouch. Professionally and also on a personal level. She saw him purse his lips, tip his head left and right – and there it was! Acceptance.

"… let me see what I can arrange.” He muttered. “You’re lucky I’m not as busy as I usually am. I assume there is a medical history?"

She nodded eagerly. Good thing they had stopped by the MedWing to get that. She’d almost forgotten all about it. The more information, the quicker they could get through with it.

“There is. Well. Enough for you to work with. It’s an arm that we need. Right side. Images, in an’ out. ENG. EMG. All the data you need.”

She dug through her pocket and fished out a datatube, containing all information the freighter's MedWing had stored.

Getting up, Rem took a step closer and snatched the tube from her hand. It was a strangely familiar picture, him towering over her, all grim and professional, almost dwarfing her by an entire head. She had to admit, she’d missed the banter. Mostly induced by herself, but as much as he’d complained, she knew, he’d missed it, too.

"I'll look into it. I take it you want to have a look at the hardware yourself?"

"Sure do."

"Fine.” He sighed. “I'll show you around the workshop. We did some renovations, might take you a minute to find what you need."

*

The neon glow of streetlights accompanied her home as Ari left the facility that night. It had taken her longer than anticipated to get back into the matter and wrap her head around the stunning progress in engineering. It wasn’t too complex to grasp, but enough to have her gnaw her nails a few times while comprehending the innovations. She had spent the day looking over shoulders, reading maintenance handbooks and studying prototypes and demonstration pieces. And when time came around to close the shop, she considered herself fairly up to date. Enough to contribute to the construction of a prosthetic arm to meet Ezra’s needs and expectations.

Swiping her entry card across the sensor, Ari quietly nudged the door open and snuck into their tiny, rented apartment. Except for the reflecting flicker of the holo-billboard right outside the lounge window, the room was dark.

Ducking to slip out of her boots, she paused, listened, and pressed her lips together in a faint smile at the sound of soft snores drifting up and over from the sofa across the apartment.

On tiptoes she padded over and leaned across the backrest to spot Ezra, sprawled across the cushions, both feet dangling over the armrest. He had brooked no dissent when it had come to allotting the sleeping places. Gentlemanly he had claimed the couch, much too short for his 6” frame but evidently comfortable enough. She had tried to reason with him still, offered to switch places every other night. But he was adamant in his decision.

That left the bedroom and the two single beds within to Cee and Ari herself. 

Today, however, Cee had found herself another spot to spend the night. A few feet away, the girl had curled up on the single armchair, peacefully dozing. A smile on her face, Ari stepped around the couch and slipped the journal from her hands to place it on the table. Disappearing into the bedroom, she grabbed the girls blanket and returned to drape it over her sleeping form.


End file.
